By: Jerold Auerbach
No other American city of proximate size and population is surrounded by universities and colleges like Boston. From center city to the suburbs Boston University, Boston College, Northeastern, MIT, Harvard, Tufts and Wellesley are highly rated. But there is only one secular (and flaming liberal) Jewish university among them: Brandeis, located in suburban Waltham.
Founded in 1948 and named after the first Jewish Supreme Court Justice, it blossomed over the years to become a university overflowing with institutes and centers, among them Modern Jewish Studies, Investigative Journalism, Social Research and Women’s Studies. Its renowned alumni, with their left-wings flapping, include Thomas Friedman, Angela Davis and Abbie Hoffman.
Among its lesser-known professors is Stephen J. Whitfield, whose academic career of forty-four years was spent in the relatively marginal American Studies Department. He is the reverent author of On the Left: Political Profiles of Brandeis University (2020). With more than four hundred and fifty pages of text (many of which are extraneous to Brandeis), and one hundred pages of footnotes, it is not exactly light reading. It is difficult to imagine that anyone without a Brandeis connection would care to read it.
Names of important people with little or nothing to do with Brandeis – Harry Truman, Joe Biden, George W. Bush, Bill Clinton, Lyndon Johnson, John F. Kennedy, Richard Nixon, Ronald Reagan, Barack Obama, Fidel Castro and Leon Trotsky among them–pass by so fleetingly that at times it feels like Grand Central Station during rush hour. Several pages are even devoted to Russian Nobel Prize winner Andrei Sakharov, whose only connection to Brandeis was the donation of his voluminous papers and letters to the library by his daughter.
Whitfield reverently dotes on alumni achievers whose Brandeis blood caroused through their veins. Among them, in excruciating detail: Michael Walzer, whose scholarly writing consumes fifteen pages; and Michael Sandel, praised in twelve pages for his You Tube lectures. Other chapters are devoted to foreign-born radicals on the faculty: Herbert Marcuse, whose career “dramatically” reveals “the radicalism of the 1960s” (twenty-one pages); and Bolshevik revolutionary Jean Louis Maxine van Heijenoort (six pages). Among left-leaning Americans who were ”connected” to Brandeis, Whitfield devotes twelve pages to Philip Rahv, co-founder and editor of Partisan Review; and ten pages to Dissent editor Irving Howe.
Whitfield is mesmerized by the impact of the turbulent 1960s on his beloved institution. Having taught in the History Department between 1965-70 I was all too familiar with the left-driven chaos by rampaging students who occupied buildings and ignited fires among their preferred strategies. The “radical spirit” that Brandeis exuded even prompted Newsweek to report “the atmosphere of barely controlled chaos [that] continued to build steadily at Brandeis.”
Whitfield’s wandering chapter on race relations at Brandeis begins elsewhere at another time. It includes Gunner Myrdal, the Swedish author of An American Dilemma, published before Brandeis existed; and Philip Roth’s The Human Stain, which had nothing to do with Brandeis. Nor did “spring theory,” the conceptual invention of Princeton professor and Nobel Prize winner Edward Witten. Whitfield seems eager to demonstrate the range of his research, including people and places far outside the Brandeis orbit.
Even when he focuses on Brandeis, Whitfield can be over the top with lengthy and doting narratives of his chosen people. Abbie Hoffman, the 1969 graduate and “radical Jokester,” consumes thirty pages having virtually nothing to do with Whitfield’s beloved university. But he deems it important to mention that Hoffman “gave the impression of liking hamburgers.” And he preposterously identifies Hoffman with “the ancient Hebrews, whose Bible describes them as stiff-necked.” It may not be inappropriate to ask: who, other than Whitfield, cares?
Whitfield’s propensity for hero-worship climaxes with ten pages devoted to Brandeis graduate Thomas Friedman, ironically deserving of recognition as the unrelenting and flaming liberal New York Times critic of Israel. But Whitfield’s overflowing recital of the wonders of Friedman reads as though he was worshiping at a Brandeis shrine–which, to be sure, he is.
Unwilling, or unable, to stop rambling (even by page 443), Whitfield concludes with a paean of praise for the university of his dreams (largely because he had no academic experience elsewhere). For no discernible reason other than his evident need for self-preening, his riffs include President Jimmy Carter and Supreme Court Justices Ruth Bader Ginsburg and Clarence Thomas; the Hebrew word for “truth”; Hannah Arendt; and those who wonder “Will Jesus return to earth”–none of whom had anything to do with Brandeis.
Whitfield’s concluding words (at last) favor “an epistemological task – addressed to the young”–whatever that means. It is a shame that Whitfield’s Brandeis story is buried in irrelevant minutiae. The academic love of his life deserves better.
Jerold S. Auerbach is the author of twelve books, including Print to Fit: The New York Times, Zionism and Israel 1896-2016, selected for Mosaic by Ruth Wisse and Martin Kramer as a Best Book for 2019
